Just One More Time
by xxliveforever17xx
Summary: Set during 2x11, "A Little Faith", with all the McSwarek scenes written from the POVs of both Andy and Sam, respectively, in order to gain access to their thoughts and emotions during their interactions with one another. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Hi guys! So I'm not even going to try to describe this week's episode, because it was so incredibly beyond words. What I did try to do, however, was write all the McSwarek scenes from the point of views of Andy and Sam, respectively. I know I won't be able to do them justice, but I'll try. This first chapter is Andy, and Sam's POV will be up sometime later this week. And please, please, review! Hope you all enjoy._

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><p>The second that J.D. turned around, she knew she was done for.<p>

Holy _fuck_.

It was Sam Swarek, midway through tipping back the last of his beer. She tried to keep her features schooled, tried to show no emotion that would indicate a previous acquaintance with the man in front of her, but regardless of all the training, all of the instincts that kicked in in that moment, she couldn't keep her eyes from widening slightly.

And then he smiled, and all hell broke loose in her mind.

She took a deep breath, composing herself, because although she had come here solely because of Sam's previous mention of this place, she hadn't thought she would see him. At the very most, she thought that she would be able to overhear a conversation, put together some pieces of the puzzle, and try to figure out at least something that resembled news, any news, of Sam, or whatever character he was playing at the moment - drug dealer, drug addict.

She couldn't bear it. It had been three weeks since he had gone undercover, three weeks since she had bared her soul to a lousy voice mail that obviously hadn't been heard by him, and four days since she had come to terms with the fact, with Chris's help, that she probably wouldn't see her partner for a very, very long time, and that she needed to get over him - or at the least_ try_ to get over him. Which wasn't going so well since her very wet, scandalous dreams involving him that had started the night after the failed prostitution string (and shamefully continued even after she got together with Luke) had only increased since he had gone back undercover.

She had to look away. She couldn't look at him anymore, at least for the current moment, because she felt a sudden surge of emotions being dredged up and sure as hell wasn't going to risk putting his life, or hers, or Traci's (as an afterthought) in jeopardy because she couldn't keep her goddamned emotions in check over this goddamned man.

Six minutes later, Jamie Brennan had all but swept her and Traci in the game, partly because of her inability to stop glancing over at Sam - _J.D._- and partly because she could practically feel the tension rolling off Traci in waves, which had thrown the woman off her game.

She looked over at Sam _again,_ and saw that he was already looking at her, with an unreadable expression in his eye, tapping his bottle against his leg in anxiety, or frustration, or annoyance. She couldn't tell.

"So what brings you two here?" Brennan asked, straightening up after sinking the red striped ball.

"We're just here for a couple of nights. Actually leaving tomorrow on a six a.m. flight," she said, trying her best to keep her voice light and nonchalant, which was extremely difficult with Sam's eyes boring into her.

"That's too bad," the silver haired man replied, sinking another ball.

"It's okay. What sucks is that I lost all my luggage. I've got nothing left except for a bus token." That last sentence was for Sam, to let him what just what exactly her and Traci were doing here.

Sam's eyebrows raised slightly as he nodded. "Been there. You'll make it."

How very Sam-like to offer reassurance in his usual surreptitious way. It made her feel slightly less on edge, but she'd be damned if she let him, or Brennan, know by a glance of any kind, so she looked away.

"Jamie. Jamie Brennan," the man offered up, shaking her hand. "That's uh, J.D." - he pointed to Sam - "he started working for me a couple weeks ago."

So this was the bastard that was the reason the equally ass-like Boyd had taken her partner away from her. Screw Brennan.

"I'm Candice, and this is Doreen," she introduced, gesturing to Traci next to her. She couldn't tell if Sam recognized the name or not, which he had said not long ago would have been her stripper name if she had ever become a dancer, because she was trying desperately hard not to look at him. Again.

"Okay Candice," Brennan said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and giving her a little shove towards the pool table, "eight ball left. Don't choke."

Wait. She couldn't play pool. She was horrible at it. She could feel Sam's laughing eyes burning into her, because he knew _exactly_ how bad she was at pool.

Fuck him.

"Okay," she murmured, taking her place at the table, bending over to gauge how to hit the ball. _Fake it till you make it._ Apparently it applied to all aspects of life.

Needless to say, she completely shanked it.

Was Sam laughing at her? She couldn't tell, refusing to look at him, but soon realized looking at Brennan wasn't much better, because the disapproving look in his eyes was almost enough to warrant a knee in his groin.

He offered up the pool stick to Sam. "All yours. Take it away."

Sam set his drink down on a nearby table - was that goddamned _giddiness _in his eyes? - and took position, gauging the balls himself in a way that she could only dream of looking like.

"No mercy." Yeah right, as if Sam was going to start showing mercy to her now. She almost laughed aloud at that, having to bite her tongue to keep herself in check.

She had forgotten just how amazing his ass was. Well, she had really _forgotten_ per say, more like missed it keenly. It was a fantastic thing to look at.

He sank it, of course - that mother effing talented man - and swung the cue stick in a manner that shouldn't have been sexy, but was.

"Pay up ladies," he said, locking eyes with her, and she couldn't help but smile at his assured cockiness. Goodness, how she had missed it.

"No, no. Let's go double or nothing."

Damn it, was Brennan purposefully trying to screw them? On the one hand, the man was giving her and Traci a chance to redeem themselves, and make double the cash they had previously been in possession of, something that Boyd and Best would no doubt appreciate. On the other hand, she didn't want to stay here any longer, not with Sam within arm's reach but impossible to touch. It was too tempting.

"No, you know, I've got to get up early tomorrow, so I'm out."

"Well that's good, because sweetheart, I hate to tell you, but you're dragging your partner down here," he said, casting his eyes over to Traci.

That condescending little prick. Damn, could a man be any more infuriating?

"Doreen, you want to go straight up, or double or nothing?"

Traci looked over at her desperately, and her current partner's plight became the number one thing on her mind. She gave a slight tilt of her head, giving her permission to do whatever she wanted. It was her call.

Traci's hesitation was all Brennan needed to rope her into another game. Like a sheep led to slaughter, she followed him to the other side of the pool table hopelessly.

She saw Sam tilt his own head in a familiar manner that showed an attempt to hide a smile as he took another swig of beer. She shot a very brief glance at him, blinked once, and walked towards the cluster of tables situated around the bartender's corner.

Two minutes later, Sam had ordered her a beer, and they were sitting at one of the high-legged tables.

"What brings you to town?" he asked, making her momentarily distracted by his fingering of the bottle. She tugged on her ear in a nervous tic.

"Conference." Short and sweet, nothing complicated.

"Conference, what kind?" God, how she had missed his voice. It was like sex. Was it wrong to want to jump him right now, in a crowded bar, both of them on completely different undercover cases?

She smiled slightly and bit her tongue before answering. "Insurance." She knew by his ever-so-slight grin that he remembered their conversation, back in the early days of their partnership, where she had mentioned that if she hadn't become a cop, she would have probably become an insurance agent. He had answered with the all-true statement that she would have killed herself out of boredom within eight months of working that job, and she had laughingly agreed with him.

"Insurance. How's that been?" That sly bastard. Was he purposely trying to bait her into confessing all these false suicidal thoughts because of her job?

She looked down to gain some composure before deciding to bring the conversation back to their current situation. "Great. Terrific. A little lonely. What about you?" She heard his breath hitch slightly at her words before answering.

"New job. Fresh start. Actually, I've been wondering why I got into this business in the first place." His words carried far more meaning for her than for a potential eavesdropper. Did he regret leaving her? Was this his way of apologizing? He didn't have anything to apologize for, really.

God, she had missed him so much.

"What business is that?" she asked, knowing she was pushing her luck, but not really caring.

He gave her a knowing smile that let her know he knew what game she was playing. "Oh, nothing as interesting as insurance, that's for sure."

She gave a small laugh, knowing her jig was up. "Nothing is," she said, shaking her head, and saw him mirror her movements, perhaps unconsciously, and he had this little smile on his face that made her feel all lovely inside. She didn't want to feel lovely inside right now, at least not while she was undercover, and he was too. It was too dangerous. Feeling lovely inside wasn't part of this assignment at all. What on earth would Boyd think?

Giving a quick glance over her shoulder at Traci, she instinctively knew something was up. "Okay, we have to go."

She really hoped she wasn't imagining the look of disappointment that crossed over his features. "Yeah, you got to find a place to put your head down for the rest of the night. Not here." The look on his face was deadly serious, and she gave him a nod to let him know she understood.

"It was nice to meet you," she said to Brennan as he walked over to the table with Traci. Knowing it would be rude and potentially telling if she didn't address Sam, she turned back to him. "J.D., it was nice to meet you. Maybe I'll see you around sometime."

"Yeah, you never know." Crap. So he knew that she remembered telling her about this place. So what? She couldn't try to make a bust or two here as well? Looking down, she quickly exited with Traci, and was somewhat gratified when she felt, rather than saw, his eyes wander to her disappearing figure as she walked away.

Of course, maybe that was just her imagination playing dirty, dirty tricks on her. Mean magic.

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><p>She knew she shouldn't go back. She knew she shouldn't <em>want<em> to go back. She needed to listen to Chris, who told her to forget about Sam. She needed to listen to Traci, who had just told her explicitly _not_ to go back inside of the bar, to not pass go, to not collect two hundred dollars. Silly Monopoly analogy.

_You know what? Screw Traci. I can do what I want._

And who she wanted to do was Sam. Seeing him again had been both exquisite and painful. The past three weeks had been so dreadful, that looking back, she didn't know how she had survived. She had missed him so damn much that now, after getting a sip of that champagne, she knew there was no way in hell she could save it for later. She had to have it now. She had to have _him_ now, the whole bottle, the whole Sam.

Her cop instincts were screaming profanities at her as she walked back inside the bar. She took several deep breaths, calming herself as she wove through the throng of people, trying to get to where she saw him sitting, at the bar, with Brennan. Her steps grew more and more hesitant until she was half ready to turn around and bolt until he looked over at her.

She saw confusion, and uncertainty, and fear in his eyes as she stopped in front of him.

"Hey."

"Hey," he replied his voice husky. He snaked out his neck, his eyes questioning her return, chastising her for breaking all the rules there were when it came to assignments like these.

"Um, I'm going to be on a plane in a couple of hours, back to Appleton, and I'll be gone, out of your life, so - " she could see the realization slowly dawn on him, as the fear and confusion and questions start to fade away, replaced by something else, "if you're not doing anything in the next couple hours, maybe..." she trailed off, shrugging her shoulders as she smiled at the placement of that _something else_ in his eyes in her mind - lust.

She saw him swallow thickly, blinking several times. "I'm - I'm with my boss."

_Oh, no. No._ "Right." Her smiled had vanished. Oh God, what an idiot she was.

"And I wouldn't want you to miss your flight." There that look was again, that not-quite-a-smile, apologetic look. What he really meant was that she needed to get her ass back to the station because she was being an idiot.

"Okay." She clenched her jaw, the full weight of the stupidity of her actions hitting her square-on. "Then I'm gone." She didn't wait for an answer from him, instead turning and walking away as quickly as she could without breaking into a run.

_You stupid, stupid woman. He doesn't want you. Why the hell did you proposition him? You've ruined your partnership, you've ruined your friendship. You let your own feelings cloud what actually is reality. And reality is that he doesn't want you anymore. If he ever did want you in the first place. Which he probably didn't.  
><em>

She let the door to the bar swing shut behind her. She was absolutely embarrassed, mortified beyond any possible belief. Her fingers clenched and unclenched in her pockets. She was angry. She was embarrassed. And angry. And embarrassed.

So what. It didn't matter anymore. It didn't. Her feelings for Sam could go away. It didn't take her very long to get over Luke. Four weeks really, if that. She and Sam hadn't even been together, hadn't even _slept_ together, so it should take considerably less time to empty herself of any and all feelings for him.

But that was the problem. Luke was Luke. Sam was _Sam._ He was Sam Swarek, the complicated, sexy, infuriating motherfucker who had just shot her down. She just...she didn't know...she just...

What she needed to do was go back to the station, debrief, and take Chris home with her. She couldn't talk to Dov, because he would be far too unsympathetic, she couldn't talk to Gail, because she was a Peck, and she was a bitch, and she definitely couldn't talk to Traci, who would just say over and over again, 'I told you so.' So what she was going to do was take Chris home with her, because he was the only one who could understand what she was going through right now.

On second thought, she didn't want to talk to Chris. She didn't want to talk to _anyone_. She wanted to go home alone and take a bath and cry over her wasted opportunities and lost love.

But she wasn't in love with Sam Swarek, because that was crazy.

She really wanted ice cream. And a gun to put herself out of this misery. Maybe she'd have ice cream first, a bowl or two, and then shoot herself...

A hand on her shoulder had her whirling around.

There he was. There was Sam, standing in front of her, looking impossibly sexy in that black shirt and stubble and - that look in his eye.

"Let's go," he said, with that Swarek smirk on his face. And she was powerless to do anything but follow him.

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><p>His place was far nicer than she had pictured it in her mind for the past three weeks. Floor, walls, windows...and a bed. She walked in, shrugging off her overcoat as he flipped on the lights. Her heart was going at a thousand miles a minute, and she didn't know what the hell to do, but at the same time she also knew exactly what to do.<p>

"So what, you can just turn the cameras off and they don't care?" she asked as he came to face her.

"I've gotta have some kind of life, right?" he asked, grinning as he took her coat from her, and she smiled back.

"I guess." She fiddled with her bracelet as she just looked at him. God, how she had missed his eyes. Dark and intense and so telling of his emotions. Right now, she could see his pupils dilated - a sign of arousal she knew, thanks to a lesson from him on the fourth day of their partnership - before he blinked several times, the lust still there, but muted now, with...resignation now at the forefront.

"I'm going to call you a cab. It's going to take you back to the station, and you're going to get into your uniform." She knew that voice. It was the exact same tone as the 'it was what it was' speech. She also knew there was no way in hell she was missing out - _again_ - with him.

She walked farther into his room, hyper aware of the slow _clop_ of her boots on the wood floor and of the stare he was sending her that had nerve spiders racing up and down her spine at an alarming rate. She turned to face him, her fingers playing with her buttons. She wanted him so badly, so, so badly.

"No."

There it was, that look again, that part of Sam she had briefly witnessed the night of the blackout, the intense, sexual side that he was now trying so hard to control. She saw a muscle in his jaw clench, and her lashes fluttered as he walked towards her. She felt the edge of the table on the back of her legs and sat on it, her mouth dry, her heart slamming against her ribs, every fiber of her body begging for him.

Her legs parted as he came in between them and stood so dangerously close to her. He dipped his head down towards her, and she was so deliciously scared at the raw darkness that she saw in them.

"If you don't leave now, there's no going back," he said, his voice so ragged and husky and low that it gave her shivers, her body tensing up at the anticipation.

"I don't want to go back," she murmured. She didn't. She didn't want to save the good candy. She wanted to gorge herself with candy and champagne. She looked at him, really looked at him, into his eyes, and in that moment had never felt so wanted.

He moved closer, her nerves violently reacting to his initial touches, his hands on her side and on her face, his thumb caressing her cheek reverently. He lowered his head, her own coming eagerly to meet his, and she felt him brush his nose against hers as she closed her eyes, that movement so uniquely Sam. She waited for an eternity for his lips to meet hers, feeling his breath on her, the scent of alcohol and mint and_ Sam_ invading her senses.

And then he kissed her. She knew she was trembling violently, but his lips were so hesitant and soft and firm that she thought she would die. His hand left her face and ran down her side, coming around to her back. He deepened the kiss, his tongue asking for access, which she eagerly granted. His arms were surrounding her, pulling her closer, and she could taste him, and feel him, and was so overwhelmed by him that she didn't know what to do except let him kiss her. She ran her hands up his arms before cupping his face that was surprisingly soft. And she was kissing him like she was dying, breathing him in, feeling every touch, every movement he did with his fingers on her skin with her whole body.

She was disoriented when he broke away and moved to take his shirt off, and then she saw him shirtless for the second time and was positively trembling at the sight of his bare skin, her eyes drinking him in, skimming over every inch before fluttering up to his again. Her fingers ran over the nape of his neck and he shivered under her touch. She fought the urge to run her tongue over his thumb as he touched her lips, instead allowing him to kiss her again before he moved on to her neck, kissing and biting his way down, making her moan and sigh. His kisses became featherlight as he made his way back up to her cheek, his lips ghosting along her nose and lips before moving over to the other side of her face and neck. She felt his fingers skimming the skin she had exposed before dipping down, and felt him growl against her lips as the fabric of her shirt stopped his actions.

He drew his face back slightly, and she saw the same need and desire and want and _love_ reflected in his eyes that she felt. His eyes moved down to her shirt and started to unbutton it. She ran her hands up and down his torso, feeling him tense and flex as she touched him, loving the feeling of his skin under her fingers. She watched him work, saw the myriad of emotions play across his face, heard the sharp intake of breath as her bra undoubtedly came into view, and she had never felt so in control and so feminine and so _wanted._

And then suddenly, he bent down and picked her up, bridal-style, and a soft gasp of surprise escaped her lips, followed by a smile as he attacked her mouth again with such a ferocity she thought she would die. She ran her fingers through his hair, their tongues swirling together as he carried her to his bed and laid her down. He kissed her again and again as his body writhed over hers, and she felt his desire for her against the exposed skin on her stomach, and gave an involuntary mew.

His hands came around to her back and lifted her off the bed, and in a moment of clarity she reached behind her head and let down her hair, a low rumble from him letting her know he approved of her action. His hands moved from her bare stomach to her breasts up to her shoulders, slipping her shirt off of her.

The next kiss was vastly different as he slowly kissed her, rubbing circles on her skin with the pad of his thumb, and she bit his lower lip in retaliation for his slow movements, making him kiss her harder before moving down to her neck again.

She was so far gone in pure lust that all she knew existed was Sam and his lips and hands and body. She had never felt this good before, never felt this cherished, with every move he made, every touch and kiss so reverent and careful and loving that she wanted to weep for both lost time and joy.

She watched him, looked at him as he peered into her very soul, making her quiver, never having watched a man, _really_ watched a man, make love to her before, and it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and all she wanted to do was look at him and have him look at her until he murmured her name, her first name, and she came undone.

She writhed against him, grinding her hips against his, making him groan and buck against her, and she wanted him so badly it hurt, keenly feeling the constriction of her jeans as he rubbed his erection against her, making her gasp before he eradicated her vocal surprise with a searing kiss. He kissed and bit his way down her neck, biting particularly hard when she snaked a hand between them to touch his hardness before soothing the bitten skin with his tongue.

His hands were all over the place, burning a white hot trail on her skin. She felt like he was branding her as his own, and she reciprocated equally, feeling his hard muscles, and his strong shoulders, and the trail of hair that led to places she couldn't bear to wait to discover.

And then he started to unbutton her jeans and she was done for.

* * *

><p>She was a motherfucking idiot for not having had sex with him sooner.<p>

Sex with Sam Swarek was like no other sex she had ever experienced. It hadn't been the longest, but it had been the best. By a long shot.

She lay on her stomach, sweaty and thoroughly sated, with her head in the crook of his arm, simply reveling in the feeling of his fingers as he gently drew abstract patterns on her back, her eyelashes fluttering madly whenever they traveled up to her cheek. She had always hated after-sex cuddling, even with Luke, but here...it felt right, and she didn't know why she had never liked it before, especially when his fingers became so light and gentle they gave her goosebumps, her shivering making him laugh a slow, deep rumble.

She never wanted to leave his bed, never wanted to leave him. She just wanted to stay here forever, gazing at him, memorizing his face, his eyes, the feeling of his naked body against hers, and the lazy smile that graced his lips that she was sure was mirrored on her own face.

"Do you think the universe has a plan - for us?" she murmured.

She saw his eyes grow mockingly serious. "Oh yeah. It was undoubtedly fate that brought you to that bar tonight."

She giggled at his words, knowing full well she had been caught in her actions. "Okay, I might remember you saying something about it, but I didn't know you were going to be there!" She opened her eyes wide in an attempt to look like the Bambi he had once told her she reminded him of.

He smiled, wrinkling his nose at her. "I never thought I would see anybody I knew at the Alpine, Andy, least of all _you_." The sound of her first name - _Andy_ - coming from his lips shouldn't make her this happy, but it did.

She flicked her bangs out of her eyes before grimacing. "The one chance I get to be whoever I want to be, and I choose Candice who works in insurance." She closed her eyes to ward off a particularly tingling sensation as he stroked the low curve of her back. She felt his chest vibrate as he chuckled.

"I think it's funny. Don't tell anybody this, but my first time I was Ernie the Zamboni driver." His deadly serious look and the absurdity of his first cover made her dissolve into a fit of giggles. She buried her face in his chest to cover her laugh before ghosting her lips softly over his shoulder.

She loved seeing him smile. He didn't smile nearly enough, but he should, because it was quickly becoming one of her favorite images. The mirth in his eyes, the smile lines around his eyes, the dimples she wanted to run her fingers over.

He was so magnificently beautiful she had to kiss him again. It was wonderfully unsettling how quickly she was getting used to this. Kissing him, touching him, feeling him. She bit her lip as her internal clock began urging her to leave.

"I gotta go," she said softly, tracing the outline of his lips with her fingers, her other hand stroking his chest.

"We're being incredibly stupid."

"Yes, we are," she said, nodding in agreement yet unable to bring herself to care. And then she realized what he meant by his words.

"I can never come back here. Ever." She didn't know how to express how she felt about that, but it wasn't good. It was downright awful. And she didn't want to go. She didn't want to go at all. She wanted to have him again and again and again, to feel him inside her, to have him kiss her and murmur her name, to be the one to make him lose control.

She wanted to make love to him again. Right now.

"Andy, you have to go," he whispered, his voice gravelly and downright sexy, and she saw in his eyes and felt under the covers his desire to have her one more time as well.

"I know," she replied, knowing full well she wasn't going anywhere right now. She leaned down to kiss him, and was immediately left aching when he boldly started exploring her mouth once again. She rolled over on top of him, barely having time to settle herself on him before he flipped her over so that she was now laying on her back. She shivered as he gently tugged on her earlobe with his teeth, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin as he whispered to her.

"Just one more time."


	2. Chapter 2

The second he turned around and his eyes focused on her, he knew he was done for.

The most he had hoped to get out of this evening was a few beers on the boss and at least a mention of possibly moving some of Brennan's goods for him before going back to his own place and getting hammered out of his mind, as had become his usual late night ritual.

But now, halfway through tipping back the last of his beer, looking at her at that moment, for the first time in almost a month, he couldn't help but break into a smile. Not the tight half-smile, half-smirk with just a touch of menace in the eyes that he had come to perfect over the course of his life as J.D., but a real, honest-to-goodness Sam Swarek smile that he quickly rationalized in the J.D. part of his brain as happiness at the opportunity to play pool with two smoking hot women.

The J.D. part of his brain also made a snide remark about the perks of ebony and ivory that he would have said aloud if Jake or Tyrone had been there with him, but the Sam in him chose to ignore it.

In the nine seconds it took for him to retrieve another beer and make it over to the pool table, he had figured a few things out in his mind.

One, he knew that somehow, someway McNally had figured out that the Alpine was, if not specifically J.D.'s haunt, then at the least the haunt of whatever drug addict or dealer she inevitably thought he was playing. Part of him was proud of her for deducting that (if he had mentioned in passing this dive bar to her, he didn't remember), for Boyd sure as hell hadn't told her (whenever she was brought up in their conversation, Don had always associated his rookie with handcuffs - and not in the sexual way).

Two, he recognized the incredible danger that they - as well as Nash - were both in at the moment. He had long ago perfected the mile long, unaffected stare that was so crucial in a job filled with the unexpected, so he wasn't worried about blowing the cover on his end. He wasn't even that worried about McNally blowing it either, but with Nash, it was a different story. She was a solid cop and all, but she had been on desk duty for the better part of the last several months, and was inevitably rusty in field, let alone undercover, work.

Three, _damn_ Andy looked even better than he had imagined her - frequently - in the past weeks. He wasn't usually into the whole button-down look, but she somehow made it work. Typical McNally sexiness.

Four, as he watched her lick her in lips in the apparent attempt to recover from the dry mouth that had set upon her due to seeing him, he was acutely, and painfully, reminded of the dream he had had last night where she had licked her lips in that exact same manner (she actually licked her lips in every dream he had of her - which was a lot - since it was one of his favorite things to watch her do).

Five, he couldn't wait to hear what cover story she and Nash had cooked up for themselves.

It had taken less than six minutes for Brennan and him to sweep the girls in an embarrassing loss at the pool table, and he was having a more difficult time at keeping it together than he had originally thought he would. For one, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his eyes from wandering to her form, which he knew wasn't entirely a bad thing, since J.D. was the type to leer at attractive women, and McNally was far more than attractive - but he couldn't bring himself to leer. So he studied, and watched, and studied some more, looking for something that he didn't quite know.

He was in the middle of studying her for the eighth time when her eyes flickered to his, their gazes meeting up, and despite his initial reaction to how beautiful her eyes were, even in this dingy light, he recognized something akin to fear in them, and prayed that she would be able to keep it together.

"So what brings you two here?" Brennan asked.

"We're just here for a couple of nights. Actually leaving tomorrow on a six a.m. flight." Her answer brought some relief to his worrying. Choose a story, commit to it. Simple, vague, details only when necessary. No fancy frills. He had learned this while cutting his teeth in Guns & Gangs running heroin for King and Johnson's (now defunct) business, and was pleased to see that McNally was adhering to the same rules.

"That's too bad." His boss's reply had Sam laughing inside. Brennan had no idea just _how_ too bad it really was.

"It's okay. What sucks though is that I lost all my luggage. I've got nothing left except for a bus token."

Ah, so that's what she and Nash were doing here. The bus token was the white shirt's way of giving the rooks tickets to freedom if necessary. Boyko had given him and Jerry a token each and dropped them off in the vicinity of Richmond Street West for their first undercover exercise. Jerry had hated those eight hours like no other, and still to this day bitched about it at poker nights, but Sam had caught the UC bug, bad.

"Been there. You'll make it." His words were meant to be both an encouragement and an understanding for her, and he was rewarded with a bite of her lip, another favorite McNally mouth activity of his.

"Jamie. Jamie Brennan. That's J.D. He started working for me a couple of weeks ago."

He was careful to keep his features schooled even as his brain shot off a warning signal at Brennan's nonchalant introduction of himself. Apparently he didn't consider two women a threat to security, or else he wouldn't have given his real name.

"I'm Candice. This is Doreen."

He couldn't believe that she had actually chosen to call herself Candice. It took a considerable amount of willpower to refrain from snickering at the memory of one of their past conversations about strippers. He had told her that if she ever started dancing, she had to call herself Candice, because it was an absurd name for an absurd woman. She had shot right back that he didn't even deserve a stripper name because no one would ever want to hire his ugly ass to take off his clothes for them. His ego had stung for a few minutes after that.

"Okay Candice," Brennan said, and Sam wrapped his fingers around his bottle just a little bit tighter when his boss put his arm around McNally's shoulders, "only eight ball left. Don't choke."

This was going to be fantastic. McNally was dreadful at pool, and he should know - he had made the mistake of partnering with her at the Penny one night in an attempt to end Noelle and Oliver's winning streak. It hadn't ended well.

She didn't disappoint, shanking the ball to the right, and it was like that night at the Penny all over again, right down to the part of him staring down her shirt as she leaned over the table.

"All yours. Take it away." Brennan handed him the pool stick, and he took it almost gleefully, knowing that McNally would see the gleam in his eyes at the thought of beating her in their grand tradition of taking everything as a competition.

"No mercy." Brennan's words had him laughing to himself again. As if.

Was it just his imagination, or was she totally checking out his ass right now?

The satisfying sound of stick connecting with ball was like music to his ears as the ball sank into the middle pocket. He swung the cue stick at the women - at McNally, really. "Pay up ladies."

"No, no, let's go double or nothing."

Andy's pathetic attempt at weaseling out of another game had him biting back another smile, but Brennan's words, "Sweetheart, I hate to tell you, but you're dragging your partner down here," was almost exactly what Ollie had said to her at the Penny, and he just couldn't help himself from smiling.

For the first time since starting to work for Brennan, Sam silently thanked the man, this time for leading Nash away, leaving him and Andy alone.

Alone. He tipped back his bottle again, and realized that yet another one was empty. His mother's nagging voice at the back of his mind told him that by the time this particular operation was over he'd have permanent liver damage from all of J.D.'s drinking.

He quickly approached the bar and ordered two more beers, reasoning that if he was going to have to endure liver damage down the road, he'd might as well enjoy it with the beautiful woman who was currently walking towards him.

"So what brings you to town?" he asked, the question partly for keeping up appearances, partly for wanting to find out her cover story (and if she really was Candice the stripper, which he hoped to God she was), and partly because he just wanted to hear her voice again.

"Conference." Her answer was short and to the point, the two syllables far two few for his liking. But then she pulled on her earlobe, her fingers fidgeting with the pearl earrings she always wore, and just like that, she was his McNally again.

"Conference, what kind?" Okay, so maybe she wasn't Candice the stripper after all, unless the conference was for the different metals used for the poles.

"Insurance."

She was an insurance agent - that was so much better than being a stripper in his book, not because that job was particular sexy, but because he had a funny feeling she had chosen that occupation based on a conversation they had had back in the early days of their partnership. They had been talking about which jobs they would have had if not for being a cop. He had said a firefighter, because the ladies love the uniform, any uniform, and you didn't have to fill out paperwork, and she had said an insurance agent, to which he had replied that she would have killed herself out of boredom within eight months.

"Insurance. How's that been?" He was hoping she'd rise to his bait and make some witty comment on how dreadfully boring it was.

"Great. Terrific. A little lonely." Her words had him swallowing hard, the hidden meaning not lost on him. "What about you?"

If they were talking in riddles and codes, he might as well give her a good one. "New job. Fresh start. Actually, I've been wondering why I got into this business in the first place." He saw that his words weren't lost on her, but that she was doing that damn over-thinking thing again, trying to decipher exactly what he meant, when all he really meant was that he missed her. Terribly.

It wasn't as if he had just hopped into the car with Boyd without a second thought. Sure, he might have acted nonchalant about going under again for an undetermined amount of time, but he had been weighing the options of following his passion for his job or Andy for such a long time now that it was one of the main reasons he wasn't sleeping well anymore. But when the opportunity had arisen, he had been in such an emotionally charged and vulnerable state, with Andy almost dying (again) and then them almost kissing, but her backing away, that he had acted rather, and regrettably, rashly.

That last part had him sounding like a girl, which he wasn't at all pleased with. But, still going down that touchy-feeling emotional path, he had missed her so, so, _so_ much it had been almost unbearable. Constantly thinking about where she was on her beat, who she was partnered with, what she was wearing at that exact moment under her uniform. Typical stuff.

The dreams had been his only solace, and even then they had given him more grief than comfort. His dreams with McNally in the starring role had started long, long ago, but to have them and not see her or touch her the next day had driven him just a little crazy, which he guessed fit his J.D. persona alright.

"What business is that?"

"Oh, nothing as interesting as insurance, that's for sure." He could sit here all night, with his face in his hand, just watching her.

"Nothing is." She shook her head slightly as she smiled, that genuine, beautiful, blindingly breathtaking Andy McNally smile that he had grown to crave in the past two years. Scratch that. He could sit here all night, with his face in his hand, just watching her _smile_. He shook his head, noticing too late that he was mimicking her movements, and couldn't help but feel like an idiot for giving this - for giving _her_, up.

God, he had missed her so much.

His lovely little bubble of him and his McNally and the alcohol that was warming his whole body was abruptly burst when she told him she had to go. _No._

"Yeah, you got to find a place to put your head down for the rest of the night. _Not_ here." He knew she was smart enough to catch his meaning, but added that steely glint in his eyes as he said it to make sure she understood. The last thing he wanted was to find her several hours later lying half-naked on a flea-infested bed after being stabbed several times in the abdomen.

Okay, so maybe he was overreacting, but over protectiveness or not, the Alpine was _not_ a place for a single woman (or two women together, which was only slightly better) to stay.

He was rewarded with an equally steely gaze and a single nod in affirmation that she indeed got his meaning.

Nash and Brennan walked over to the table and said something of unimportance. He didn't pay attention, focusing all of his attention on the brunette in front of him, knowing full well that this was going to be the last chance he got to see her in at least a couple of months.

Boyd was such a bastard.

"J.D., it was nice to meet you. Maybe I'll see you around sometime." Her words, and her smile, cut him deep, deeper than he would have liked.

"Yeah, you never know." He hadn't meant it to come out so sharply, but right now he would have taken not seeing her at all rather than seeing her for such a brief moment only to have her disappear out of his life again.

He watched her retreating form until she was out of his line of sight.

* * *

><p>It hadn't been difficult for J.D. to get back into the swing of conversation with Brennan. For Sam, it was a different story, but for J.D., Candice was just another hot woman who had entered and exited his life like many others before her. She wasn't Andy McNally, the only woman in the world as far as Sam Swarek was concerned.<p>

Just Candice.

"Hey, look who's back," Brennan said with a tilt of his head, and when Sam saw her for the second time, he was instantly filled with dread.

"Hey," she said. Her voice didn't sound normal, did it?

"Hey," he responded.

Either something had happened to her, or Nash, or both of them. Maybe she was high out of her mind after having to take some of the drugs in order to maintain her cover. Were her pupils dilated? Were her hands shaking? He couldn't tell, willing her closer so he could discreetly check her visible vitals.

She looked fine, was acting normal - apart from the blatant disregard for protocol by coming back in here - and his dread, while still acute, subsided a bit.

"Um, I'm going to be on a plane in a couple of hours, back to Appleton, and I'll be gone, out of your life, so if you're not doing anything in the next couple hours, maybe..." she trailed off, and for a second all he could focus on were her lips.

Had she just propositioned him, here, in the Alpine, with both of them under aliases?

His mind began running rampant with illicit images that he had only previously dreamed of, and his mouth went completely dry. Swallowing hard, very, very hard, he cleared his throat.

Yes. Yes, he wanted to make love to her. Yes, he wanted to take her back to his place and simply revel in and experience the sensations he had gotten a preview of all those months ago and that had been driving him desperate with need ever since. Yes, he wanted her. Badly. So, so so _badly._

He cursed Brennan and Boyd, not for the first time.

"I'm - I'm with my boss." He had never hated himself as much as he did at that moment.

He saw the light and giddiness drain out of her eyes, her smile disappear, the flush of her cheeks go cold. No. No, no, no, no. But he had to continue. He couldn't jeopardize this operation, not when it had been underway for close to a year. No matter how much he didn't want to continue, he had to. And it pissed him off.

"And I wouldn't want you to miss your flight." Another thought had dawned on him as he spoke those words - Nash obviously wasn't with her, and it was quite late in the evening, and she was a woman - a very attractive, beautiful one - and these weren't the best parts of town.

She needed to get back to the station, pronto.

"Okay. Then I'm gone." And she turned and walked away, and he wanted, _needed_, to call out to her, to rush after her, but she had already turned to leave, and he couldn't abandon his current position, and he was so furious and confused and strung out that he thought maybe Brennan had slipped him some rocks after all.

He watched her until she pushed open the door - aggressively - and walked out. Out of his life. For how long, he didn't know. Too long, though - that he did know.

Turning back to the bar, he tried to school his features, but was becoming more and more irate at the little chuckles coming from Brennan.

"We have business, you and me," his boss said, gesturing between them.

He nodded his head with a fake smile, that J.D. one that he had so perfectly practiced in these past weeks. "Yes, we do." No big deal. The love of his life hadn't just walked out the door after he had turned her down. His one object of obsession hadn't just exited with his denial ringing in her ears. No big deal.

"We can catch up on that business tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that." Brennan had that smile on his face that Sam had come to know was a good facial expression, not like the smile-sneer that would usually accompany a threat or a disappointment. "A woman like that doesn't knock on your door every day."

There were two things running through his mind at that moment. One, he had the sudden urge to go all European on Brennan and kiss him on the cheek - just an air kiss, to be safe, but a kiss nonetheless - and two, the irony was so poignant and the memories of her knocking on his door the night of the blackout still seared into his memory and senses that the smile he gave was the first one he hadn't had to fake with his boss.

Brennan had picked up the tab, shooing him off to go track down Candice the insurance agent, and he hadn't needed a second urging, practically tearing out of that seedy hellhole as fast as the maze of tables and people would let him.

The door was lighter than he remembered it being just hours ago, and then there she was, hunched up against the cold, her hair lit up by the neon sign behind her, and even from behind she looked so stunning he couldn't believe it.

He placed a hand on her shoulder - had she lost some weight since he had left? - and as she whirled around to face him he couldn't contain his giddiness.

"Let's go."

* * *

><p>The cab ride to his place was short and quiet, nothing spoken between them, for nothing needed to be said. Arriving at the apartment, he had done a quick grounds check to make sure his cover team hadn't showed up unexpected, and then proceeded upstairs, where he also had to do a security check, this time switching off the audio and visual surveillance Boyd and his team had set up.<p>

"So what, you can just turn the cameras off and they don't care?" The first words spoken in over fifteen minutes and those were it. It made him laugh.

"I've gotta have some kind of life, right?" he replied with a grin, taking the jacket she had just shed.

She smiled back - _how_ he had missed that smile - "I guess."

Standing in front of him, in his apartment - J.D.'s apartment, but right now that didn't really matter - her fingers playing with her watch, and her expression one of nervousness and hopeful expectation, he thought she looked perfectly at home. In his home. With him.

"I'm going to call you a cab. It's going to take you back to the station, and you're going to get into your uniform." He didn't want her to leave. He didn't want her to leave at all, but he needed to give her an out right now, so that if for some reason she regretted this later on, there was no way she could place any blame on him.

She walked backwards, farther into the room, and he was acutely aware of her fingers undoing the bottom buttons of her blouse.

"No."

Never had a word had that much power over him. He swallowed hard as he slowly made his way over to her, his eyes studying her, his heart racing, _pounding_ with the anticipation and nerves and raw sexual energy.

She scooted onto the table in the middle of the room, and he came and stood in between her legs, just watching her face, drinking in her presence and her closeness to him, wondering how on earth God could have made a creature as beautiful as her.

"If you don't leave now, there's no going back." That was his final out - he wasn't going to give any more to her, because he knew that as soon as he kissed her, as soon as he even _touched_ her, he wasn't going to let her go until he had had her.

"I don't want to go back." Oh, thank Jesus. Her eyes were dancing now, and he knew his weren't dancing at all, because he could see her slowly grow serious as she took in the desire for her that was clearly written across his face.

In that moment, he had never wanted _anything_ as much as he wanted her.

Moving closer, he placed his left hand on her side, feeling her solid body, and his right hand on her neck and cheek, caressing the soft skin that continually tempted him through all hours of the day.

He dipped his head down towards hers, breathing her in, the scent of cherry blossoms and lemon and _Andy_ making something deep within him clench. Brushing his nose against hers, he lowered his lips slowly, so slowly, until finally he kissed her.

Just the mere touch and taste of her lips, though his kiss was a slow and shy one, was enough to elicit a groan from him. He needed more, he _wanted_ more, and so when she didn't shy away when he ran his tongue over her lips to ask permission, he grabbed that opportunity to deepen the kiss, running his hands down her sides before the need to feel her closer to him swam to the forefront of his overstimulated senses and he laced his arms around her back, pulling her into him.

Her lips, her kiss, her _everything_ was so much better than he had remembered from the night of the blackout. He kissed her like he was drowning, and never, ever wanted to stop, for she felt so good against him, and so natural and _right_.

Her hands were doing evil things to his shirt-clad torso, and the fabric between her fingers and his bare skin was now far too heavy and bulky for his liking, so he quickly shed the unwanted clothing. The look in her eyes as she followed the ridges of his stomach was enough to make him throw her against the table and have his way with her right then and there, but he settled with having her fingers flutter across the back of his neck, eliciting involuntary shivers from him.

Her neck was now his sole object of attention, that smooth, tanned neck that tempted him and taunted him each and every day in the patrol car and on the streets, and he had to bite back a smile when she whimpered as his lips paid homage to that delicious strip of skin. She tasted of honey and lemon and salt and he simply couldn't get enough of it, but the allure of her lips was now simply too great to be ignored, so he ghosted his kisses across her cheek before quickly giving attention to the other side of her neck, and _finally_ kissed her again.

He hadn't been aware of his hands moving down her front, but was now very aware of the irritating fabric that was preventing him from seeing and feeling the rest of her. He quickly glanced at her face, her eyes close in what he hoped was the ecstasy he was feeling at the moment, and began to slowly unbutton her shirt, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against her bare skin, until he caught a glimpse of the black lace underneath and thought he would simply die from the beauty of her. He pulled the tails of her shirt to him so that she came along with them, and in that moment he was wrapped up in the continual fantasy he had of having her on their wedding night, so he did what any man who had just married the woman of his dreams would do - picked up his bride and carried her over the proverbial threshold.

The smile she gave him was again so beautiful, but he didn't want to see her smile at that moment, he wanted to kiss her, and so he did, again, as he carried her over to his bed.

He was momentarily disoriented when she broke off from his lips, only to have his lust turned up even higher, if that was possible, when she let down her hair and began to remove her shirt, two actions that he let her know he approved of very, very much by the low rumble he was sure she heard from the laughter in her eyes.

And then there she was, on his bed, topless, and _God_ how he wanted her, and he kissed her slowly, savoring her taste and the feeling, marveling at how soft her cheek was as he caressed it, hell bent on kissing her like this until the world ended until she bit his lower lip in what he took as an impatient signal to hurry up his ministrations, which he happily acquiesced to.

And there was that neck of her again, tantalizing him, and he couldn't help himself from kissing down its long length, sinking his teeth gently into the skin just above her collarbone as if marking her as his own.

He didn't know how much longer he was going to be able to last as this exquisite woman writhed and moaned under him, but when he looked down at her, _really_ looked at her, and saw her looking at him, his movements still at the perfection he was holding.

He had never, in his life, watched a woman as he made love to her - in all honesty, he had never _made_ love to a woman before, for it had always been just sex, just instant gratification, but then again, Andy was not some instant gratification to be had and tossed away, and he was momentarily ashamed of himself as he trembled from the look and beauty on her face, the way her eyes were dark with need, the way her lips were swollen from his kisses, the way her cheeks and her neck and her chest were flushed with the most appealing blush he had ever seen.

She was beauty and perfection exemplified.

He exhaled heavily as she bucked her hips against his, and he simply couldn't take it anymore as he pulled her into him, never hating jeans more than he had now as his and hers both were the things constricting him from what he wanted, but he couldn't voice anything at that moment, so he kissed her, hard, to let her know exactly what he wanted from her.

His hands touched her entire body, marveling at the silkiness of her skin and the smoothness of her shoulders and stomach and the perfection that was her breasts and he knew right then, at that instant, like he had always known, that she was his.

He bit her neck again, this time a bit too hard for his liking, as she began exploring his erection with her fingers, and quickly soothed it with his tongue, wanting to make this last as long as possible.

That particular desire was tossed out the window as soon as he began unbuttoning her jeans and felt her satin underwear and completely came undone.

* * *

><p>He supposed he should blame her really, as they lay together on his bed, both still breathing heavily, since she had just ruined any other woman for him, but he highly doubted he would ever have another woman after her, so he guessed he was lucky to spend the rest of his life with the perfection that was his Andy McNally.<p>

This hadn't just been sex, he mused, as his fingers moved of their own accord, lazily drawing random patterns on her back, the feel of both her skin and the wet sheen of sweat that covered him as well making him second guess his rule of no after-sex cuddling. Andy seemed to make him make a lot of exceptions in his life when it came to her.

Every so often he would change his pressure to featherlight, which made her shiver, which in her made him laugh, and laughing while his partner shivered on his chest was something he couldn't believe he was just experiencing now.

He never wanted to leave this bed, never wanted to not feel the silkiness of her bare skin against his own. He had claimed her as his own tonight, and he was damned if he was going to let her get away this time.

"Do you think the universe has a plan - for us?" she asked. Another thing he had never done after sex - had philosophical discussions. He kind of liked this new tradition.

"Oh yeah, it was undoubtedly fate that brought you into that bar tonight." So maybe a philosophical discussion wasn't what they were having - more like a are-we-still-keeping-up-this-random-act-of-fate-tonight discussion. Whatever it was, he liked it.

"Okay, I might remember you saying something about it, but I didn't know you were going to be there!" He raised his eyebrows at her horrible attempt at lying. "I didn't!" The wrinkling of her nose reminded him once again of how doe-like she could be.

"I never thought I'd see anyone I knew at the Alpine, Andy, least of all _you_." Andy - he liked how that sounded coming out of his mouth far more than he should have.

"The one chance I get to be whoever I want to be, and I choose Candice who works in insurance." Her look of annoyance and disgust had him remembering his first undercover exercise with Jerry.

"I think it's funny. Don't tell anybody this, but my first time I was Ernie the Zamboni driver." Needless to say, that particular occupation and name hadn't gone over so well with the ladies.

He smiled broadly as he was rewarded with the laughter he was hoping to get, her eyes crinkling at the edges in the way he so dearly loved before she laid her head down on his chest to cover the rest of her giggles, causing him to tense up slightly as her lips placed a soft kiss on his shoulder.

He was doubly rewarded as she leaned forward to kiss him again, which he more than happily reciprocated. It wasn't a kiss of need or lust or desire, but rather a kiss of happiness, and he found he really, really enjoyed it.

"I gotta go." Even before she uttered those words he knew she was going to say them from the change of emotions in her eyes.

"We're being incredibly stupid." Those words were supposed to make him sober up and realize the severity of their actions, but he couldn't really bring himself to care when her fingers were running themselves so wonderfully through his chest hair.

"Yes we are. I can never come back here. Ever."

Her statement cut him deep, really, really deep. He knew from the expression on her face that she didn't like this arrangement at all, but what he was feeling was quickly turning into despair. He had waited two years for this opportunity, and when he finally had her, both metaphorically and literally in his arms, fate dealt them a card that he wanted to rip into tiny shreds.

He had known for the better part of those two years that Andy was it for him, that she was his one and only, his true love, all that wishy-washy Lifetime movie crap, but it was true. And now that he had made love to her, claimed her as his own - for God's sake, carried her bridal-style to his bed (something that he hoped to repeat on a very important date somewhere down the road) he didn't want to let her go.

At the very least, he wanted to have her again. Just once more, for memory's sake, to help him get through these long months ahead.

"Andy, you have to go." He knew that she also wanted to have one more go-around, evident through her current exploration of him under the sheets.

How he loved this woman.

"I know," was her reply, and then he kissed her again, not even asking permission before exploring her mouth again, and he quickly flipped her over so that he was on top, and pressed his mouth against her ear as he ran his hand down her stomach.

"Just one more time."


End file.
